I woke up this morning at NOON. When I finally rolled over and looked at the clock, I was shocked. I had to go check the other clocks in the house to make sure. I guess my body needed it:
They require hours of preparation between the grading, progress reports, projects in class to finish and display, IRI graphs to print, thoughts to organize, classroom to clean, and appointments to arrange. And then there are the late nights actually conducting the interviews. And then there is usually that one parent who is angry at you for suggesting their child has any room for improvement or could have possibly ever broken a school rule. sigh.
But other than that, I really, truly, enjoy parent teacher conferences. I always leave with a clearer understand of why my kiddos are the way they are. Also, seeing how much the parents love their kids, for some reason, makes me love the squirts even more than ever.
Our house has had bad luck in the health department. Last week, Andrew came home miserable with the stomach flu. Luckily, with some distance and a bottle of Pepto, I was able to escape with only a day of mild nausea. But this week, I came home with a burning throat and a sinus headache. Teaching twenty-four, active eight-year olds while sick is never fun.
3.) New Calling.
I learned to love my sunbeam calling much faster than expected. My bad attitude at the beginning only shames me now. And, as usual, the moment I get comfortable, I am issued a new call.
Relief Society presidency didn't terrify me near as much...and I was shakin' in my high heels back then, let me tell you. A few bad experiences must have traumatized me forever, because I have been out of high school for nearly ten years now, yet adolescent girls still make my palms sweat. It's as if I revert back to awkward teenager the moment I'm around them (though if we're being honest here, when have I NOT been socially awkward?). At mutual, I'm suddenly very conscious of my lack of witty things to say. Is my face turning red when I speak? And where am supposed to rest my hands while I hold a conversation?
The above quote has been helping me keep the proper perspective. This isn't about me. It's about those sixteen and seventeen year-old girls. Serve accordingly, Rachel.
Andrew's gone until 9 or 10 every night working to finish it by the new year. Although we knew it would be like this, and we agreed the sacrifice was worth making to build this house...it totally sucks.
I spend a lot of time digitally painting houses online these days. After angst-filled deliberation, I think the exterior house colors have been selected. Almost. I think.
*I have the very best class this year. I just love them. Last year was so hard...and this year has been a breath of fresh air.
*Andrew is so wonderful. I was so miserably sick last night, and Andrew got a bath ready for me, brought me food, and rubbed my aching head until I fell asleep. I am spoiled rotten.
*After two late nights of parent-teacher conferences, teachers have Friday off. I love today.
*My Laurels are so good-hearted, talented, and well-versed in the Gospel. I don't know why I'm worried.
*We are totally building our own house. And that is freakin' awesome.